PFECTIONS 


RIBUT: 


astitm'8    Tribute, 


Affection's    Tribute. 


ORIGINAL  POEMS, 


BY 


R.  S.   NAYLOR. 


OSKALOOSA,   IOWA, 

CENTRAL  BOOK  CONCERN 
1874. 


Kntered  according  to  act  of  <'ougres.s,  in  thf  yo:tr  1H74.  liy 

A.  W.  NAYLOR, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  1>.  C. 


TRESS   OF 

CENTRAL  BOOK  CONCKRN, 

Oxkaloasa,  Imi-a. 


TO 
MY    PARENTS 

AND 

MY  FRIENDS 

|  bebititte  tin*  little  bolumt 

AS   A   TRIBUTK   OP 

rtffecfion  anri  -Retpect. 


2030015 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE- 
TO    OHIO, 17 

LIKES  PRESENTED  TO  MY  HUSBAND  WITH 

A    BIRTHDAY    PRESENT,           .          .          .  '21 
I    THANK     THEE,       KIND      SAVIOUR     FOR 

TEARS, 25 

THOUGHTS    OF    HOME, 28 

DREAMS    OF    HOME, 30 

LINES  WRITTEN  ON  THE  BLANK  LEAF  OF 
A    BIBLE    1'RKSKNTED  TO    MY  LITTLE 

DAUGHTER  ONE  YEAR  OLD,           .         .  33 

EVENING    THOUGHTS, 36 

TO    MY    BROTHER, 41 

BLANDER, 45 

NIGHT   THOUGHTS, 46 

TO    A    SNOW    BIRD, 49 

DARE   TO    DO    RIGHT,        ..'...  52 

TO    MY    OLD    PLAYMATE,         ....  53 


CONTENTS.  XV 

PAGE. 

THE    STREAM    OF    TIME,            ....  58 

BEAUTY  OF  THE  MORNING,  .  .  .  60 

EVENING, 62 

THE  SOUL, 63 

DEDICATED  TO  MY  FRIEND  ON  THE 

DEATH  OF  HER  CHILD,  .  .  .  64 

TO  THE  FLOWERS, 67 

HOPE, *  ...  69 

THE  CHURCHYARD,  .  .  .  .  .  70 

TO  THE  EVENING  STAR,  ....  71 

THOUGHTS  BY  THE  OCEAN,  ...  73 

I  WATCH  FOR  THEE, 75 

MORNING  MEDITATIONS,  ....  77 

TO  MY  INFANT  SON,  .  .  ...  79 
WE  WHICH  HAVE  BELIEVED  DO  ENTER 

INTO  REST,  .  .  '  .  .  .  .  82 

INVOCATION,  . 84 

TO  THE  LOVED  AT  HOME,  •  86 

LINES  WRITTEN  UNDER  MY  PICTURE,  .  88 


TO  OHIO. 

T  HAVE  left  thee,  dear  Ohio, 
But  my  memory  fondly  clings 

To  thy  rocks,  so  high  and  towering, 
To  thy  ever-gushing  springs ; 

To  thy  meadows  and  thy  valleys, 
Where  thy  crystal  waters  shine, 

To  the  old  hills  where  the  gray  rock 

Flashes  through  the  waving  pine. 
3 


18  TO   OHIO. 

In  the  morning  of  my  childhood 

I  have  often  loved  to  rove, 
When  the  orb  of  day  was  glittering 

From  the  calm,  blue  sky  above, 
To  thy  forests,  where  thy  songsters 

Sweetly  sang  their  songs  of  glee. 
All  these  ties,  beloved  Ohio, 

Bound  my  youthful  heart  to  tliee. 

And  as  I've  sat  there  musing, 

In  the  shelter  of  the  wood, 
On  the  deeds  of  those  of  other  days,- 

The  great,  the  wise,  the  good, — 
I,  in  fancy,  stood  beside  the  place 

Where  the  council  fire  once  shone 
On  the  rude  home  of  the  red  man, 

In  the  days  that  now  have  flown. 

And  ofttimes  by  thy  waters, 

When  the  autumn's  gentle  breeze 


TO    OHIO.  10 

Fanned  quietly  above  my  head 

The  tall,  umbrageous  trees, 
I've  mused,  when  no  sound  broke  my  spell 

But  the  waves  upon  thy  shore, 
And  the  cadence  of  those  billows 

Only  made  me  love  thee  more. 


And  when  evening's  constellations 

Glittered  on  thy  waters  clear, 
Warning  me  that  I  must  leave  the  place 

So  fondly  loved,  so  dear, 
I    wandered    home,    when    the    clamorous 
voice 

Of  the  day  was  hushed  and  still; 
No  sound  broke  on  my  evening  thoughts 

But  the  song  of  the  whippoorwill. 

Oh  !  tbou  blest  land  of  my  childhood  ! 
Fresh  to-day  my  memory  brings 


20  TO    OHIO. 

Recollections  of  thy  wild  woods, 
And  thy  clear  and  crystal  springs ; 

Still  my  heart  clings  to  thy  forests, 
With  their  brown,  majestic  trees. 

Oh  !  beloved  land  of  my  childhood, 
I  do  love  thee  more  for  these. 

Though  I  love  the  western  prairies, 

And  the  ties  are  stong  that  bind 
My  heart  to  those  who  have  been  to  me 

So  faithful,  true,  and  kind ; 
Yet  my  heart  grows  tired  of  noise  and  strife, 

And  often  in  my  dreams 
I  go  back  to  the  days  of  my  early  lii'e, 

When  I  sat  by  thy  quiet  streams. 


LINES  PRESENTED  TO  MY  HUSBAND 
WITH  A  BIRTHDAY  PRESENT. 

n^HE  springtime  of  youth  is  fast  gliding  away, 
And  the  noon  of  our  lives    very   soon   will 

come  on. 
I  look  back  through  the  vista  of  time  to  the 

days 

That    have    vanished  since  our  paths  in    life 
have  been  one  ; 

Since  the  day  that  we  started  together  to  share 
Life's  conflicts  and  conquests,  its  joys  and  its 

tears ; 

And  although  we  have  tasted  our  portion  of  care, 
Yet,   withal,  we   must    say,  they  have    been 
happy  years. 


22  TO    MY    HUSBAND. 

And    I    praise    the    kind    Giver  who   dwelleth 

above, 

That  in  His  great  goodness  He  ever  bestowed 
Such  a  being  to  cherish,  such  a  warm  heart  to 

love, 
Such  a  hand  to  assist  me  o'er  life's  rugged  road. 

And   the  tears  trickle  down  as  I  think  of  the 

time 

We  no  longer  shall   carry   life's  burdens  to- 
gether, 
When  the  grim  monster  Death  shall  pierce  my 

heart  or  thine, 

When  the  -chain  that  now  binds  us  his  sickle 
shall  sever. 

How  lonely  the  journey  will  be  to  the  one 
Left  alone  to  contend  with  earth's  sorrow  and 
grief; 


TO    MY    HUSBAND.  23 

And  naught  but  the  thought  that  it  cannot  be 

long 
Could  afford  the  sad  heart  any  balm  of  relief. 


Then,  dear  one,  let  us  live  so  that  when  we  shall 

part, 

We  may  feel  the  assurance  of  meeting  above 
In  that  blissful  forever  where,  heart  joined  to 

heart, 

We  may  dwell  evermore  with  the  ones  that 
we  love. 


And  oh  !  let  us  strive,  while  together  we  stay, 
To  act  toward  each  other  so  affectionate  and 
kind 

That  when  one  from  the  other  is  taken  away 
No  cloud  of  remorse  can  o'ershadow  the  mind. 


24  TO    MY    HUSBAND. 

May  the  sad,  lonely  heart  be  consoled  with  the 

thought, 
When  the  form  it  most  loved  has  been  laid 

out  of  sight, 

That  the  vows  made  in  youth  it  has  never  forgot, 
But  has  done  what  it  could   to  make    life's 
pathway  bright. 


/  THANK  THEE,  KIND  SAVIOUR,  FOR 
TEARS. 

VT7~HEX  my  heart  is  o'erburdcned  with  sor- 
row and  care, 

And  my  mind  overpowered  by  grief, 
And  my  woe-stricken  spirit  is  seeking  to  find 
The  all-healing  balm  of  relief; 

When  my  tempest-tossed  bark  finds  no  haven 
of  rest 

For  its  burdensome  cargo  of  fears, 
As  it  sails  life's  rough  ocean,  forlorn  and  dis- 
tressed, 

I  thank  thee,  kind  Saviour,  for  tears. 
4 


26       I   THANK    THEE,  SAVIOUIl,  FOR    TEAUs. 

When  sober  reflection  can  bring  me  no  joy 
From  the  grave  of  the  long-buried  past, 
And  the  future's  dark  vista  seems  paved  with 

sharp  thorns, 

And  by  tempest  clouds  thickly  o'ercast ; 
When  the  star  that  once  gilded  my  path   o'er 

life's  way 

In  the  heavens  no  longer  appears, 
And  the  light-house   of  hope  seems  to  die  from 

my  view, 
I  thank  thee,  kind  Saviour,  for  tears. 

When  the  friends  who  once  met  me,  when  for- 
tune was  kind, 
At  the  altar  of  friendship  to  bow, 

And  brought  wreaths  of  affection    my  heart    to 
entwine, 

Have  forgotten  to  meet  me  there  now  : 

» 
When  misfortune's  chill  breezes  have  taken   the 

voice 


I   THANK   THEE,  SAVIOUR,,  FOR   TEARS.      27 

Of  affection  that  greeted  my  ears, 
And  the  steel  words  of  harshness  pierce  wounds 

in  my  breast, 
I  thank  thee,  kind  Saviour,  for  tears. 

I  thank  thee,  wise  Parent,  that  thou  didst  fore- 
know 

That  afflictions  would  meet  us  while  here, 
Which  would  sink  the  weak  heart  in  the  ocean 

of  woe 

If  'twere  not  for  the  solace  of  tears. 
And,  although    for  a   few   fleeting  days  I   am 

placed 

In  a  world  full  of  sorrows  and  fears, 
Thou  hast  given  this  means  to  relieve  my  sad 

heart ; 
O,  I  thank  thee,  I  thank  thee  for  tears. 


THOUGHTS  OF  HOME, 

T  'M  lonely,  and  I  feel  to-night, 
Borne  down  by  melancholy's  hand  ; 

I  wander  far  from  childhood's  home, 
A  stranger  in  a  strange,  strange  land. 

Oh  !  gentle  moon,  look  from  thy  throne, 
And  tell,  oh  !  tell  me,  dost  thou  see 

One  friend  amidst  the  throng  at  home 
Who  thinks  and  drops  a  tear  for  me  ? 

( )h  !  tell  me  from  thy  throne  above, 
Thou  bright  and  beauteous  orb  of  light, 

Does  a  father's  or  a  mother's  love 
Yearn  for  their  child  to-night  ? 


THOUGHTS    OF    HOME.  29 

Oh  !  does  a  brother  long  to  see 
The  playmate  of  his  early  years? 

Oh  !  does  a  sister  think  of  me, 
And  shed  in  silence  bitter  tears 

For  the  one  who  led  her  infant  hand 
And  joined  her  in  her  childish  fun  ? 

Does  she  think  of  me  in  a  stranger  land  ? 
Oh  !  does  she  think  of  the  absent  one  ? 


DREAMS  OF  HOME. 

T^\EAR    mother,   I've  been  to    the    land    of 

dreams, 
That    .strange,    strange    world    of    mysterious 

gleams, 

Where  the  withered  flowers  of  days  gone  by 
Perfume  the  dear  chambers  of  imagery. 

I  saw  thee  there  in  that  spirit  land, 

As  joyful  I  stood  midst  the  well  known  band 

Of  familiar  faces,  that  brightly  shone 

With  joy  as  you  welcomed  your  absent  home. 


DREAMS    OF    HOME. 

You  all  were  there,  and  your  voices  clear 
Fell  like  notes  of  music  upon  my  ear  ; 
And  a  world  of  affection  pure  and  deep 
Seemed  given  me  in  that  land  of  sleep. 

Your  faces  shone  with  the  fire's  bright  bla/e, 
As  we  sat  by  the  hearth  of  my  early  days. 
A  brother's  eye  sparkled  with  strange  delight, 
As  he  said,  I'm  s®  glad  you  have  come  to-night. 

But  the  morn  has  come,  and  my  dream  is  gone ; 
I  awake  with  a  heart  more  sad  and  lone. 
Oh  !  strange,  mysterious  land  of  sleep  ! 
Thou   hast  vanished  and  left  me  to  pine   and 
weep. 

O  Morpheus,  come  at  the  daylight's  close ; 
Bring  the  eyelids  sleep  and  the  mind  repose ; 
But  never  again  bring  the  land  of  dreams 
To    remind    me    of    home  and    its   clear,    blue 
streams 


32  DREAMS    OF    HOMK. 

For  bitter  tears  from  the  heart's  core  come 
When   I  wake   to    remembrance,   at   morning*.- 

dawn, 

And  find  it's  a  dream  that  has  vanished  by 
And  left  my  visions  of  home  to  die. 


LINES     WRITTEN     ON     THE    BLANK 

LEAF  OF  A  BIBLE  PRESENTED 

TO  MY  LITTLE  DAUGHTER 

ONE  YEAR  OLD. 

"\,1~Y  darling  May,  bestowed  by  Heaven 

To  light  life's  dark,  bewildered  road  ; 
Thou  gem  of  love,  so  kindly  given 
To  lead  my  wandering  soul  to  God ; 
To  thee  I  dedicate  this  gift 
That  points  the  only  glorious  way 
That  leads  to  life  and  perfect  peace, 

And  everlasting  day. 
5 


34  TO    MY    DAUGHTER. 

I  give  it  with  a  heartfelt  prayer, — 

A  mother's  prayer,  devout,  sincere, — 
That  thou  mayest  learn  the  many  truths 
That  God  has  wisely  planted  here. 
My  infant,  thou  dost  little  know 
The  joy,  the  fear,  the  hope,  the  dread 
That  thrills  thy  mother  when  she  feels 
That  thou  hast  youth's  wild  paths  to  tread. 


To  tread,  if  God  shouldst  will  that  thou 

Shouldst  come  upon  the  busy  stage 
Of  human  life  to  act  the  part 

Of  youth,  of  girlhood,  and  of  age. 

How  that  may  be  I  cannot  know  ; 
Perhaps  e're  morning's  light  shall  c<> 
Thy  soul  may  soar  to  spirit  worlds. 
God's  will  be  done — forever  done. 


TO    MY    DAUGHTER. 

I  Jut  should  He  spare  thee  yet  to  read 

The  volume  whieh  thy  mother  gave, 
When  the  frail  form  that  first  thou  knew 
Lies  moldering  in  the  silent  grave, 
I  eharge  thee  by  the  silken  cord 
Of  love  that  binds  my  soul  to  thee 
To  give  thy  heart  unto  the  Lord, 
And  live  but  for  eternity. 


EVENING  THOUGHTS. 

r\   HOW  pleasant  to  me  is  the  still  hour  of 

evening, 
When  the  shadows  of  twilight  come  stealing]  y 

on, 
And  the  soft,  gentle  breeze  fans  the  warm  brow 

of  heaven, 
When  the  great  king  of  daylight  has  vanished 

and  gone; 

When  nature's  loud  voices  are  hushed  into  quiet, 
And  the  husbandman's  labor  is  brought  to  a 

close  ; 
When  this  great  active  world's  busy  tumult  and 

riot 
Into  stillness  is  hushed  by  the  hand  of  repose. 


EVENING   THOUGHTS.  37 

A>  I  sit  by  my  fireside,  the  lamp  brightly  burn- 
ing* 
My  thoughts  wander  back  o'er  the   work  of 

to-day 

That  has  passed  to  that  bourne  whence  no  trav- 
eler's returning 

Has  ever  illumined  our  wandering  way. 
Oh  !  tliou  day  just  departed  on  time's    fleeting 

pinions  ! 
What  news  hast  thou  borne  to  that  fathomless 

sea 

Of  my  sins  of  omission,  my  deeds  of  transgres- 
sion ? 
Oh  !  what  is  the  message  thou  bearest  of  me  ? 

Hast  thou  borne  on  thy  pinions  the  wailing  of 

sadness  ? 

The  groans  of  the  suffering  my  hand  might 
have  stilled  ? 


3S  EVKXISG    THOUGHTS. 

Or  were   thy  wings  laden  with  sweet  songs  of 

gladness 
From    mouths  of   the  hungry  I  caused  to  be 

filled  ? 
Oh  !    thou  great   book   of  fate,  thou  record  of 


What  hast  thou  to  tell  of  my  actions  to-day  ? 
What  black  marks  of  sin  are  inscribed  on  thy 

pages 
To  be  read  in  the  finis  with  fear  and  dismay  ? 


When   my   fancy    peruses   that    great   book   of 

actions 
From  the  story  there  written  I   fain  would 

depart ; 
For    methinks     that     that    dreaded    herculean 

volume 
Is  filled  with  the  numberless  sins  of  my  heart. 


EVENING    THOUGHTS.  39 

And  so  seldom  are  scattered  my   few  deeds   of 

goodness; 

Along  through  the  story  of  my  useless  past, 
That  my  heart  seems  to  shrink  from  that  sure, 

truthful  record, 

And  by  sad,  dark  forebodings  my  soul  is  o'er- 
cast. 

O,  thou  great   king  of  day  !    when  again   thon 

hast  risen 

To  waken  a  slumbering  world  out  of  sleep, 
May  I  start  in  the  straight,  narrow  pathway  of 

duty 
And  all  God's  commandments  so   faithfully 

keep 
That  when  darkness  again  shall  preside  o'er  the 

billow, 

( )r  night's  radiant  queen  take  her  watch  o'er 
the  sea, 


40  EVENING    THOUGHTS. 

May   I  sweetly    repose  on   my    soft,    thornless 

pillow, 
And  feel  that  this  world  is  the  better  for  me. 


TO  MY  BROTHER. 


brother,  though  the  critic's  lip 
May  proudly  curl  and  sneer 
At  the  unstudied,  uncouth  rhyme 
That  I  have  written  here, 

1  hope  tor  better  things  from  you 
Who  know  my  heart's  intent  ; 

Who  know  these  lines  were  only  penned 
For  youth's  encouragement. 

I  am  your  senior,  and  should  by 

Experience  be  more  wise. 
Then  do  not  deem  it  rash  in  me 

To  drop  you  this  advice. 
6 


TO    MY    BROTHER. 

You'll  find  youth's  path  a  slippery  one, 

And,  if  you're  not  aware, 
You'll  slip  from  virtue's  narrow  track 

Into  temptation's  snare. 

Sometimes  you'll  find  in  it  a  rose, 

And  oftentimes  a  thorn 
That  goads  the  tender  heart  with  shame, 

And  leaves  it  sadly  torn. 

If  you  will  only  pluck  the  flowers 
Of  knowledge,  love,  and  truth, 

In  after  years  you  may  look  back 
Upon  a  well  spent  youth. 

But  if  you  leave  the  path  of  right 
To  pluck  the  thorns  and  flowers 

Of  idle  pleasure,  you'll  look  back 
With  pain  on  childhood's  hours. 


TO    MY    BROTHER.  4."> 

You'll  find  its  roses  soon  will  fade 
And  leave  you  naught  but  thorns 

To  cull  in  winter's  gloomy  age 

And  probe  the  heart  that  mourns. 

You'll  meet  with  those  who  seek  to  lure 
You  from  truth's  path  of  light  ; 

But  sho\v  them  works  to  prove  that  you 
Are  standing  for  the  right. 

Mingle  not  with  such  :  you  little  know 

The  influence  it  may  have  ; 
For  those  who  see  you  oft  with  rogues 

Will  mark  you  for  a  knave. 

Xo  ;  rather  seek  for  friendship 
With  the  forest,  vale,  or  brook  ; 

Or  at  the  shrine  of  solitude, 

With  some  kind,  teaching  book, 


44  TO    MY    BROTHER. 

Search  deep  for  wisdom's  shining  ore 

That  foes  can  ne'er  destroy, 
And  keep  it  bright  with  earnest  toil, 

And  free  from  all  alloy. 

And,  as  you  sail  down  Time's  swift  stream, 

Strive  hard  to  keep  your  bark 
In  duty's  path,  and  leave  behind 
A  bright  and  shining  mark  ; 

A  mark  to  shine  and  ever  gild 

The  path  you  trod  on  earth  ; 
A  name  to  live  and  ne'er  disgrace 

The  land  that  gave  you  birth. 


SLANDER. 

f\   MAN!  let  reason's  power  tame 
That  venomous  tongue,  that  fiery  lust 

That  publisheth  thy  neighbor's  shame, 
But  leaves  his  good  deeds  in  the  dust. 

Oh  !  let  his  deeds  of  virtue  fly 

On  immortal  wings,  and  ever  live  ; 

But  leave  his  deeds  of  shame  to  die 
And  molder  in  oblivion's  grave. 


NIGHT  THOUGHTS. 


>rrr\VAS  evening.  On  the  rocky  hill 
The  moon  looked  down  in  tender  love  ; 

The  ocean  wave  was  hushed  and  still  ; 
The  sky  was  blue  and  calm  above. 

The  stars  put  forth  their  gentle  light 
To  cheer  their  radiant,  beauteous  queen. 

I  gazed  with  rapture  and  delight 
Upon  the  charming,  lovely  scene. 


NIGHT   THOUGHTS.  47 

Oh  !   was  it  wrong  that  I  should  pine 

For  eagle's  wings  to  soar  away 
Where  lights  like  these  forever  shine 

With  steady  and  undimming  ray  ? 

Who  would  not  leave  a  world  of  woe, 
Where  beauty  flees  with  fleeting  time, 

And  to  those  charming  regions  go 
And  like  those  stars  forever  shine  ? 

Yet  pause,  my  soul,  art  thou  aware 
That  mortals  stained  by  guilt  and  sin 

May  strive  to  make  an  entrance  there, 
But  cannot,  cannot  enter  in  ? 

Art  thou  not  marked  by  many  a  crime 

That  bath  not  been  forgiven  ? 
And  wouldst  thou  enter  that  fair  clime 

And  mar  the  peace  of  Heaven? 


48  NIGHT   THOUGHTS. 

Ah,  no  ;  I'd  rather  stay  below, 

With  creatures  weak  and  frail  like  me, 

Than  carry  guilt  and  sin  and  woe 
Where  they  should  never  be. 

But  when  my  robes  have  been  washed  white, 

And  all  my  crimes  forgiven, 
Then  I  would  join  the  saints  in  light 

And  shine  on  earth  from  Heaven. 


TO  A  SNOW  BIRD. 

r^   COME  to  my  window, 
Thou  beautiful  bird ! 

Thy  sweet  little  note 
Is  the  only  I've  heard 

Since  the  summer  and  autumn 
Have  vanished  and  gone. 

All  the  others  have  left  thee 

To  warble  alone. 

7 


50  TO   A    SNOW    BIRD. 

O  come  to  ray  window  ! 

The  tempest's  wild  storm 
Will  certainly  shiver 

Thy  beautiful  form. 
I'll  give  thee  protection 

From  snow,  sleet,  and  rain, 
And  when  thou  desirest 

I'll  free  thee  again. 


Dost  thou  ask,  little  bird, 

Why  I  love  thee  the  best, 
And  why  thou  art  dearer 

To  me  than  the  rest '? 
When  the  others  have  vanished 

With  sweet  summer's  bloom 
Thou  cometh  to  chee*1  me 

In  winter's  sad  gloom. 


TO   A    SNOW   BIRD.  51 

I've  had  friends,  little  bird, 

That  would  stay  very  near 
To  my  side  until  tempests 

And  storms  would  appear  ; 
But  when  fortune's  bright  sunshine 

Had  settled  in  gloom 
Those  friends  quickly  left  me 

Alone  to  my  doom. 

I  too  have  had  friends 

Who  were  faithful  and  true, 
Who  would  stay  through  life's  sunshine 

And  misfortunes  too  ; 
Who  closely  would  cling 

When  life's  sunshine  was  warm, 
But  closest  would  cling 

In  its  tempest  and  storm. 


DARE  TO  DO  RIGHT. 

TpELLOW-MORTALS,  as  you  journey 

Down  the  ebbing  stream  of  time 
To  the  sacred  bar  of  judgment, 

There  to  answer  for  each  crime, 
Let  the  voice  within  direct  you 

Through  life's  scenes  of  dark  and  light; 
Listen  to  its  solemn  teachings, — 

Do  what  conscience  says  is  right. 

It  will  teach  you,  if  you'll  listen 

To  its  still  and  quiet  voice, 
What's  the  path  of  right  and  duty, 

Though  it  may  not  be  your  choice. 
And  in  cases  where  temptation 

Lures  you  from  truth's  path  of  light, 
Lay  aside  your  will  and  wishes, — 

Do  what  conscience  says  is  right. 


TO  MY  OLD   PLAYMATE. 

T'VE  been  sitting  by  my  window 
In  the  moon's  soft,  gentle  light, 

Thinking  of  the  past  and  friends  beloved 
Who  are  far  from  me  to-night. 

I've  been  wondering  if  thy  memory 

Is  as  faithful  unto  thee 
In  bringing  gone-by  scenes  to  view 

As  mine  has  been  to  me. 


54  TO    MY    OT.I)     PI,AYMATK. 

Mine  has  brought  the  ancient  meadow, 
Where  we  often  used  to  go 

In  winter  with  our  little  sleds 
To  slide  upon  the  snow. 

It  has  brought  the  little  playhouse 
That  we  built  upon  the  rock, 

With  its  carpets  and  its  beds  of  moss, 
And  its  roof,  the  hoary  oak. 

There  we  spent  the  hours  of  summer, 
When  we  were  young  and  fair  ; 

But  for  our  future  years  we  built 
Bright  castles  in  the  air. 

On  the  rock  upon  the  hillside 
Our  playhouse  still  doth  stand, 

But  the  castles  that  we  built  for  age 
Were  only  built  on  sand, 


TO    MY    OLD     I'l.AYMATE.  55 

And  the  waves  of  time  came  swiftly, 

And  from  off  the  sandy  shore 
They  washed  youth's  bright  airy  castles 

From  our  view  forever  more. 

We  have  learned  that  life  is  real 

And  of  sterner  stuff  is  made 
Than  our  youthful  visions  pictured 

From  the  future's  brilliant  shade. 

Thou  hast  given  to  another  friend 

Thy  hand,  thy  love,  thy  life  ; 
Thou  hast  tried  life's  stern  realities, — 

Thou  hast  become  a  wife. 

And  I  would  not  have  thee  falter 

In  thy  love  for  that  true  one 
Who  has  linked  his  fate  for  life's  short  day 

With  that  which  is  thine  own. 


6  TO    MY    OLD     PLAYMATE. 

I  have  bowed  at  that  same  altar, 
And  have  vowed  to  ever  love 

One  dearer  than  all  other  friends 
Except  the  Friend  above. 

And  may  that  Friend  in  Heaven 
Send  misery,  want,  and  shame, 

If  I  prove  inconstant  to  my  vow 
Or  e'er  disgrace  his  name. 

But  why  should  ties  be  severed 
That  were  formed  in  childhood's  breast, 

Though  thy  home  is  in  an  eastern  land, 
Mine  in  the  prairied  west. 

Let  the  silver  cord  that  bound  us 

In  those  happy  days  of  yore 
Grow  stronger  with  Jthc  growing  years, 

And  bind  us  evermore. 


TO    MY    OLD     PLAYMATE.  57 

Yes,  evermore  remember  me 

As  thy  firm  and  faithful  friend, 
And  while  apart  let  our  tongues  be 

The  ever-faithful  pen. 


THE  STREAM  OF  TIME. 
TVT  E  arc  gliding  down  the  stream  of  Time, 

Like  ships  upon  the  sea ; 
We're  striving  for  that  blissful  clime 

In  the  blest  eternity. 

We're  sometimes  tossed  by  adverse  seas 

Which  drive  us  from  the  way 
That  leads  to  life  and  perfect  peace 

And  everlasting  day. 

But  if  our  captain  is  the  Lord 

We  need  not  fear  its  power  ; 
He  calms  it  at  a  single  word 

And  quells  its  awful  roar. 


THE   STREAM    OF    TIME.  59 

Then  let  us  choose  Him  for  our  guide 

Down  the  rough  stream  of  Time, 
That  our  frail  barks  may  smoothly  glide 

To  Heaven's  celestial  clime. 


BEAUTY  OF  THE  MORNING. 

"Tl^HEN  the  shades  of  night  are  flying 
From  the  dazzling  orb  of  day, 

And  the  lark  its  wing  is  hieing 
Upward  on  its  heavenly  way, 

Then  I  rise  with  joy  and  gladness 
From  my  couch  of  sweet  repose, 

And  I  banish  grief  and  sadness 
With  life's  many  eares  and  woes. 

I  look  around  with  admiration 
On  the  meadow,  hill,  and  wood, 

And  see  the  beauties  of  creation 
Made  by  Him  so  wise  and  good ; 


BEAUTY    OF    THE    MORNING.  Gl 

And  then  I  think  how  thankful  ever 

I  should  strive  to  live  and  be 
To  the  great  and  bounteous  Giver 

Who  has  been  so  kind  to  me. 


EVENING. 

rPHE  harvest  moon  is  shining  bright 

O'er  nature's  sweet  repose  ; 
No  cloud  obscures  the  mellow  light 

That  gilds  the  summer  rose. 

But  hushed  and  still  all  nature  seems; 

Each  passion  sinks  to  rest 
From  daylight's  toils  and  various  schemes 

That  agitate  the  breast, 


THE  SOUL. 
rPHE  mountain  tall  must  waste  away, 

The  forest  oak  must  bend ; 
The  flower  is  subject  to  decay 

Who  marks  it  for  its  friend. 

The  man  of  high  ancestral  birth, 

The  man  of  pride  and  lust, 
Must  yield  his  body  to  the  earth  : 

Dust  must  return  to  dust. 

But  the  soul,  Immortal,  in  its  prime 

Shall  never,  never  die, 
But  live  throughout  the  boundless  time 

Of  all  eternity. 


DEDICATED  TO  MY  FRIEND   OA7  THE 
DEATH  OF  HER  CHILD. 

OHE  hath  passed  away  from  all  earthly  sad- 
ness, 

From  sin  and  suffering,  from  pain  and  woe, 
To  that  blissful  region  where  joy  and  gladness 

Like  mighty  rivers  forever  flow. 
Her  spirit  has  gone  where  the  soul's  elysian 

Never  crumbles  with  sickness  or  sad  decay ; 
From  terrestrial  woes  to  the  joys  of  Heaven 

Her  tender  spirit  hath  passed  away. 


TO    MY    FRIEND.  05 

She  has  passed  away,  and  your  hearts  are  lonely  ; 

You'll  miss  her  voice  in  the  quiet  eve  ; 
The  morn  will  come,  but  its  coming  only 

Brings  dreary  memories  to  make  you  grieve. 
The  noonday  sun,  with  its  beauteous  beaming 

Will  gild  our  earth  with  a  radiance  bright, 
But  your  hearts  are  sad,  and  its  splendor  gleam- 
ing 

Cannot  enter  in  with  its  cheerful  light. 

She  has  passed  away,  and  the  dews  of  autumn 
To-night  are  falling  around  her  bed ; 

She  has  heard  the  voice  of  her  Saviour  calling, 
She  has  joined  with   the  blessed,  the    early 
dead. 

Grieve  not  for  the  loved  so  early  taken 
By  the  frosts  of  death  to  her  final  home  ; 

For  years  will  pass  like  a  fleeting  phantom, 

And  you  may  join  in  the  world  to  come. 
9 


66  TO    MY    FRIEND. 

She  hath  passed  away  with  the  mild  September, 

Like  a  tender  flower  beginning  to  bloom. 
But  breath  not  a  sigh  :  lone  mother,  remember 

Her  spirit  hath  passed  beyond  the  tomb 
To  that  happy  land,  to  that  blessed  Saviour 

Who  called  his  lamb  to  the  other  shore ; 
And  when  you  lament  your  absent  daughter, 

Remember  the  skies  have  one  angel  more. 


TO  THE  FLOWERS. 

T    OVELY  flowers  of  sunny  summer, 
Can  it  be  that  ye  have  gone 

Like  a  transient,  fleeting  shadow, 
From  the  hillside  and  the  lawn  ? 

Can  it  be  that  ye  have  vanished 

Like  a  vision  of  the  mind,' 
Like  a  passing  gale  of  autumn, 

Like  a  cloud  before  the  wind '? 

In  vain  I  seek  you  in  the  valleys, 
In  vain  I  search  the  leafless  grove, 

In  vain  I  wander  o'er  the  prairies ; 
I  cannot  find  the  flowers  I  love. 


f)8  TO    THE    FLOWERS. 

Ye  missing  treasures  of  the  summer 
That  bloomed  to  beautify  the  earth, 

Why  have  you  left  the  breeze  that  loved  you, 
The  dust  that  gave  your  soft  germs  birth  ? 

In  vain  I  call  you,  gentle  flowers; 

Ye  fear  old  tyrant  winter's  reign ; 
But  when  he  leaves  the  lawn  and  hillside 

Will  you  not  lift  your  heads  again  ? 

Adieu,  fair  flowers  !  The  hope  that  lingers 
To  cheer  my  heart  since  you  have  fled 

Proclaims  in  loud  and  thrilling  accents 
That  spring  will  resurrect  the  dead. 


HOPE. 

TTOPE  silently  stole  to  the  bed  of  disease, 
And  the  sufferer's  frown  changed  to  calmness 

and  peace. 

She  went  to  the  dwelling  of  sorrow  and  sadness, 
And  soon  from  that  dwelling  came  sweet  songs 

of  gladness. 

She  led  the  young  tyro   up  the  steep  path   of 

fame, 

And  would  not  desert  him  in  sickness  or  pain, 
But  stayed  by  his  couch  till  life's  last  link  was 

riven, 
And  when  he  left  earth  she  went  with    him  to 

Heaven. 


THE  CHURCHYARD. 

TDAUSE    by    yon     churchyard,     thoughtless 
youth ! 

Pass  not  thus  careless  by. 
Here  is  the  place,  says  solemn  truth, 

Where  all  must  shortly  lie. 

Pause  and  reflect,  gray,  sober  age  ! 

The  tide  of  time  ebbs  fast ; 
'Twill  wash  thee  from  life's  busy  stage, 

And  launch  th«e  here  at  last. 


TO  THE  EVENING  STAR. 

"DALE  evening  star,  with  gentle  spark, 
O  come  and  bid  our  labors  fly  ; 

Guide  home  the  wanderer  through  the  dark 
When  evening  closes  daylight's  eye. 

Conduct  my  thoughts,  sweet  star,  above 
The  many  cares  of  human  life, 

Where  angels  light  each  face  with  love, 
And  ever  banish  mortal  strife. 

And  while  we're  journeying  to  the  tomb 
In  this  thick  wilderness  of  tears, 

Amidst  the  world's  perplexing  gloom, 
O  light  our  darkened  clouds  and  fears. 


72  TO    THE    EVENING    STAR. 

Guide  us,  sweet  star,  while  here  we  stay, 
In  paths  of  righteousness  and  love  ; 

And  when  our  spirits  leave  their  clay, 
Pale  evening  star,  light  them  above. 


THOUGHTS  BY  THE  OCEAN. 

rPHERE'S  beauty  in  thy  curling  stream 
That  charms  like  fancy's  morning  dream  ; 
It  lulls  the  senses,  charms  the  ear, 
And  stills  the  nerve  from  torturing  fear. 

There's  sadness  in  thy  solemn  tone 
That  echoes  to  the  widow's  moan 
Of  sorrow  for  the  lost  and  brave 
Who  have  found  in  thee  a  watery  grave. 

The-e's  terror  in  thy  threatening  wave 

That  quells  the  heart,  though  stout  and  brave; 

When  tempests  beat  against  thy  breast 

Thou  art  in  awful  terror  dressed. 
10 


74  THOUGHTS    BY    THE   OCEAN. 

There's  music  in  thy  murmuring  roar 
When  storms  have  left  thy  shelly  shore ; 
It  comes  from  where  thy  sea  nymphs  dwell, 
Like  music  from  some  coral  shell. 


I  WA  TCH  FOR  THEE. 

'rPIS  evening,  and  the  shades  of  night 

Are  stealing  o'er  the  lea  ; 
The  fire  upon  the  hearth  glows  bright: 

I  wait  and  watch  for  thee. 

The  sun's  last  ray  shines  dimly  on 

The  distant  forest  tree, 
The  canary  now  has  hushed  his  song : 

I  list  and  watch  for  thee. 

I  hear  thy  footsteps  on  the  street, 

My  heart  throbs  joyfully  ; 
1  watch  no  more  but  bound  to  meet 

The  smile  thou  hast  for  me. 


I    WATCH    FOR    TIIKK. 

I  knew  when  daylight's  task  was  done, 

And  thon  from  labor  free. 
That  thou  wouldst  quickly  hasten  home 

To  her  who  watched  for  thec. 


MORNING  MEDITATIONS. 

A    WAKE,    my  soul,  to   labor,  for  the  day  is 

dawning; 

The  silent  wheels  of  time  are  rolling  fast, 
And  soon  will  bring  the  shadows  of  the  evening, 
When  the  time  to  labor  will  be  ov?er  past. 

And  shall  the  evening  find  my  task  neglected, 
The  deeds  of   love   I    might  have  done  un- 
wrought, 

And  naught  but  idleness  to  my  mind  reflected, 
For  deep  investigation,  bitter  thought  ? 


78  MORNING    MEDITATIONS. 

Ah,  no  ;   I  would  not  live  a  life  so  aimless 

That   none   would    ever   miss  me    when    I'm 
gone, 

I  would  not  leave  this  busy  stage  of  action 
With  life's  great  purposes  undone. 

Hut  I  so  faithfully  would  do  my  every  duty, 
Performing  all  the  work  to  me  assigned, 

That    all   would    say,  when   my   lii'e   work  was 

finished, 
She  did  the  best  she  could  to  bless  mankind. 

And  when  I  cross  death's  cold  and  chilling  river, 
O  may  I  rest,  when  life's  hard  race  is  run, 

At    home    in    Heaven,   where   I    can    hear    my 

Saviour 
Saying,  my  child,  well  done,  well  done. 


TO   MY  INFANT  SON. 

A   S  I  hold  thy  chubby  hand  in  min< 

And  gaze  upon  thy  face, 
So  innocent,  so  pure,  where  time 

Hath  left  no  farrowed  trace, 
I  press  thee  fondly  to  my  heart 

And  breathe  the  earnest  prayer 
That  sin,  with  its  vile,  poisonous  dart, 

May  leave  no  traces  there. 


80  TO    MY    INFANT    SON. 

Thou  canst  not  know,  my  little  one, — 

Joy  of  my  heart  and  life, — 
My  feelings  when  I  think  thou  £oon 

Must  join  earth's  scenes  of  strife 
And  battle  with  its  many  cares, 

Its  thousand  foes  to  meet, 
And  be  exposed  to  all  the  snares 

That  are  laid  for  little  feet. 


When  I  see  thy  face  beam  with  that  smile 

I  scarce  can  think  that  thou 
Can  e'er  be  led  in  paths  of  guile, 

Or  be  less  pure  than  now. 
And  yet  I  know  thou  art  not  divine, 

Thou  art  mortal,  prone  to  stray, 
And,  like  the  rest  of  human  kind, 

To  miss  truth's  narrow  way. 


TO    MY    INFANT   SON.  81 

But  O  may  He  whose  mighty  power 

Contracts  the  raging  seas 
Lead  thee,  dear  bov,  forever  more 

In  paths  of  right  and  peace. 
O  Saviour,  guide  those  little  feet 

In  the  way  thyself  hath  trod 
Until  they  walk  the  golden  street 

In  the  Paradise  of  God. 


11 


WE    WHICH   HAVE   BELIEVED    DO 
ENTER  INTO  REST. 

"V VTE  talk  of  our  rest  in  the  sky, 
Of  the  joys  of  that  region  so  fair, 

And  otltimes  grow  weary  and  sigh 
For  the  rest  that  awaiteth  us  there. 

We  speak  of  the  river  of  life, 

That  makes  glad  the  whole  city  of  God, 
We  rejoice  that  the  world's  busy  strife 

Never  enters  that  quiet  abode. 

But  how  often,  I  fear,  we  o'erlook 

The  sweet    Heaven  we    may  have    in  ou  r 

breast, 
For  the  Saviour  has  said  in  his  book, 

That  they  who  believe  do  have  rest. 


WE    WHICH    HAVE    BELIEVED,    ETC.  83 

Th  it  th  '  stro-i  j  iron  shackles  of  sin 

Xo  longer  shall  fetter  the  smil. 
That  th ').-•(•  ir.iholy  pa^s'ons  within 

No  longer  the  he;;rt  shall  control. 

For  the  Saviour  has  made  it  his  home, 
He  bids  its  wild  conflicts  all  cease  ; 

It?  affections  no  longer  shall  roam, 

Rut,  centered  on  him,  shall  have  peace. 

I  would  not  have  us  love  Heaven  less, 

But   I    would  that  the  whole  world  might 
know 

That  God's  kingdom  may  be  in  our  breast, 
And  that  Heaven  may  begin  here  below. 

For  I  ever  shall  praise  our  dear  Lord, 
As  long  as  life  throbs  in  my  breast, 

That  he  ever  has  said  in  his  word 
That  they  who  believe  do  have  rest. 


INVOCATION. 

i  ^OME,  muse,  'tis  midnight's  quiet  hour ; 

The  mists  of  night  are  thick  and  deep, 
And  Morpheus,  with  her  awful  power, 

Has  wrapt  a  drowsy  world  in  sleep. 

O  bring  me  visions  bright  and  fair,— 
Visions  of  peace,  of  joy,  and  rest, — 

To  drive  away  the  anxious  care 
That  agitates  my  throbbing  breast. 


INVOCATION.  S5 

Come,  muse,  and  to  this  troubled  heart 
That  sinks  beneath  its  weight  of  woes 

Bring  thoughts  that  bid  all  gloom  depart, 
And  hushes  into  sweet  repose. 

Dispel  the  clouds  that  overcast 

My  tired  mind,  and  bring,  oh  !  bring 

Some  bright  remembrance  of  the  past 
To  lift  my  spirit's  drooping  wing. 

Oh  !  help  me,  in  the  time  to  come, 

Bravely  to  meet  earth's  pain  and  strife, 

To  look  midst  scenes  of  deepest  gloom 
Upon  the  sunny  side  of  life. 


TO  THE  LOVED  AT  HOME. 

"LEATHER,  mother,  sister,  brother, 
Far  from  you  to-night  I  roam 

In  a  distant  land  of  strangers, 
Far  from  childhood's  early  home. 

Far  from  scenes  beloved  in  childhood, 
Far  from  kindred  ties  of  love, 

Far  from  sunny  haunts  of  pleasure, 
Where  in  youth  I  loved  to  rove. 

Autumn  winds  to-night  are  blowing, 

(From  Pacific's  shore  they  come), 

• 
Wafting  breezes  of  aifection 

To  the  ones  I  loved  at  home. 


'IO    THE    LOVED    AT    HOME.  87 

«. )  :n;iy  heaven's  gentlest  breezes 
Wait  you  peace  upon  their  wings, 

And  affection's  bright  dew  moisten 
Flowery  scenes  where  memory  clings. 

Flowery  scenes  which  faithful  memory 
Brings  me  from  my  native  land, 

An:l  sh?  helps  me  cull  the  treasures 
With  her  slender,  magic  hand. 

Hasten,  breezes !  bear  the  message 
That  my  heart  sends  forth  to-night 

To  the  fondly  cherished  loved  ones, 
When  dull  Morpheus  takes  her  flight. 

Tell  them,  though  I  oft  have  wandered 

In  forbidden  paths  and  wild, 
God  has  ever  dealt  in  mercy 

With  their  absent,  erring  child. 


LINES  WRITTEN  UNDER  MY  PICTURE. 

'JV/TY  soul,  let  not  earth's  scenes  entwine 
Around  thec  with  their  transient  joys  ; 

Its  glittering  treasures  all  combine 
To  draw  thee  from  thy  native  skies. 

But  O,  my  soul,  forever  pray 

That  all  the  powers  God  has  given 

May  be  engrossed  each  passing  day 
In  laying  treasures  up  in  Heaven. 


THE    END. 


